


Yes, Ginevra, There is a Santa Claus

by 1917farmgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1917farmgirl/pseuds/1917farmgirl
Summary: Sometimes, even Santa needs a little help.Christmas present for my Adopted Big Brother, Eldy!Banner by Bellatrixx @ TDA.





	Yes, Ginevra, There is a Santa Claus

**Yes, Ginevra, There is a Santa Claus**

 

Author’s Note: Thanks for the beta, siledubhghlase!

** For my adopted big bro, theelderwand, because he was upset I ruined their Christmas Eve party. Happy Christmas!

*****

“Mummy! Mummy, look!”

Bill Weasley couldn’t help looking up from his breakfast of Wand Wheaties when his little sister streaked into the kitchen and up to their mother, squealing with delight. 

“Look, Mummy!” she repeated, practically bouncing up and down with excitement and thrusting a colorful catalog at their mother. 

“Ginny, dear, what is it?” his mum asked with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron and turning from the Christmas biscuits she was rolling out to face her daughter.

“Daddy said I could get the post today and this was in it!” She held up the brightly colored catalog once more and this time Bill could make out the words on the front despite his little sister’s bouncing: Tabitha’s Terrific Toys.

“And what’s got you so excited about an old catalog, sweetheart?” 

“Look!” Ginny cried for the third time. She pointed with one finger to a picture. “A dollhouse! The windows light up and the Floo really works and it even comes with its own little house-elf!”

His mother took a moment to study the picture. “Yes, Ginny, it’s very nice,” she said appreciatively to the excited girl.

“That’s what I want for Christmas!” Ginny declared happily.

Bill watched his mother’s face fall instantly. He glanced over at Charlie who was sitting next to him and shared a look. Their family had never been exactly rolling in gold, but it had been a particularly hard year. Their dad had been injured at work at the beginning of the summer and had been forced to take several months off to recover. He’d been back for a while now, though he still walked with a slight limp, but the months without pay had done serious damage to the family’s already meager savings. With the two of them and Percy all attending Hogwarts and the little ones at home to take care of, he knew his parents were barely scraping by. Christmas this year was going to amount to whatever homemade and hand-me-down treats his parents could put together. There was simply no way there was money for the wonder that had caught Ginny’s eye.

“Oh, Ginny love,” his mother sighed, crouching so she was eye-level with her seven-year-old daughter, “you know Daddy and I can’t get big, fancy gifts this year.” Her voice was incredibly sad and it tore at Bill’s heart, seeing his mum have to explain to his baby sister why she couldn’t have nice things like other little girls. But Ginny seemed unaffected.

“I know, Mummy!” she cried happily. “That’s all right! I’m gonna ask Santa!” She flashed a dazzling smile at her mother and then skipped to the drawer by the sink. Humming slightly, she pulled out parchment, scissors, and a roll of Spello-tape which she bundled into her little arms with the catalog and then took off up the stairs to her room.

His mother stood back up and leaned against the counter, a completely crestfallen look on her face as she watched her daughter go. 

“You know you don’t have to get us anything if it would help,” Bill spoke up quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, Mum, we’re completely cool with no presents this year,” added Charlie.

She looked over at her teenage sons and gave them a watery smile. “Thank you, boys,” she said, walking over behind them and wrapping an arm around each of them. “But that wouldn’t make any difference.” She ruffled their hair affectionately. “I’ll be…be right back,” she sniffed, her voice wobbly. “Watch the dough for me? Keep Ron and the twins from sneaking it?” she said and then left for the loo in a bit of a hurry. Bill had a sneaky suspicion why she was going and it made his heart ache even more.

“Well, this is a fine mess,” said Charlie after a moment, standing up and dumping his empty cereal bowl in the sink. “What a way for Gin to learn the truth about Santa.”

Bill nodded grimly, his thoughts full. Ginny was the youngest of seven, all older brothers. The girl had never had anything new in her life. She had the twin’s old clothes and Ron and Percy’s old toys. She read his old books and even slept in Charlie’s old bed. Their mum had become an expert at Redesigning spells, but you could only Transfigure clothes and toys and such so many times before they never quite lost their frayed look.

But it was more than that. Ginny was a little girl. She hadn’t cared when she was very young that all the things she had were originally meant for boys. But she was seven now, the age when girls started wanting girly things. Her friends all had dolls and tea-sets and dress-ups they played with. Ginny was tough as nails, growing up with six big brothers, but she was still a little girl. He hadn’t actually thought until her excited plea a few moments ago that Ginny might like those things, too.

Lost in thought, Bill stood and put his own dish in the sink, mulling over the idea that had just popped into his head. “Hey, Charlie?” he said suddenly to his brother.

“Hmm?” 

“Find Percy and meet me in our room in about twenty minutes, okay?”

“Why?” asked Charlie, puzzled.

“Just do it, okay?”

Charlie shrugged, slipping a handful of their mother’s biscuit dough from the counter and stuffing it into his mouth. “Okay, mate,” he said thickly around his mouthful. “Whatever you say.”

“Thanks,” replied Bill and then he took off up the stairs, stopping at Ginny’s door. It was slightly open but he knocked anyway.

“Come in,” his little sister called out happily.

He pushed the door open and walked inside. She was lying stretched out on her stomach on the floor, legs swinging in the air as she taped a cutout picture to a piece of parchment.

“What you making, Ginger?” he asked, using the nickname he’d given her at birth. He sat down on the edge of her bed.

“This is my letter to Santa,” she said proudly, holding it up for him to see. It was written in red crayon with the cutout picture of the dollhouse taped to the bottom. “See, I even gave him a picture so he wouldn’t get confused.”

“That’s really good, Ginny. What are you gonna do with it?”

“Post it, silly!” replied Ginny with a roll of her eyes at her dumb big brother. Bill laughed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the logical thing to do with a letter. Why don’t you let me post it for you? I’ve gotta send a letter anyway.”

“Thanks, Bill!” she cried, rolling to her feet. She folded the letter with utmost care and handed it to him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a tight hug. “You’re the best big brother in the world.”

Bill laughed again, hugging her back. “Don’t let any of the others hear that or they might get jealous.”

She pulled back and made a locking motion over her lips. “Solemn secret,” she said firmly.

“Solemn secret,” repeated Bill locking his own lips. He tugged her ponytail lightly, causing her to squeal just a bit and then stood up. “Don’t worry, Ginny. I’ll make sure Santa gets this,” he said, waving the folded letter. She gave him a happy, slightly toothless grin and then he slipped from the room.

*****

Thirty minutes later Bill, Charlie, and Percy were assembled in the elder two’s bedroom, draped lazily over furniture. The meeting had been delayed slightly when Bill sent them back out to round up all their pocket change, and now the other two were staring at him rather curiously.

“All right, dump it all here in the middle of the bed. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Charlie obeyed without protest, but Percy crossed his arms and glared with a glare that shouldn’t have looked so at home on a twelve-year-old’s face. “Why?” he demanded, holding tightly to his little bundle of coins.

“Because Santa needs a little help this year, and we’re going to give it to him, Percy.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Percy, exasperated. “You think I still believe in Santa?”

“No, Perce, but Ginny does and if you’d just hand over your gold I’d explain,” replied Bill with equal exasperation.

Percy gave a little sigh and shook his head but stepped forward and added a small handful of coins to the pile on the bed. Bill counted it quickly, frowning at the small total he arrived at. He sighed deeply.

“We’re nowhere near close to what we need.”

“Need for what?” demanded Percy again. 

Bill unfolded Ginny’s letter and handed it to him without a word. He read it silently then looked up. “And you think we can come up with fifteen Galleons, five Sickles and three Knuts?”

“You got a better idea?”

“We could just tell her the truth. She’s going to find out about Santa sometime anyway.”

Charlie leveled a glare at his younger brother. “Who spit in your oatmeal, huh? You wanna spoil a little girl’s Christmas?”

“No, of course not,” said Percy. “But I think it’s even crueler to get her hopes up for something that’s not going to happen. You know Mum and Dad can’t afford this, and you’re barmy if you reckon we could scrap together this kind of gold.”

“Thank you for your heartwarming opinion, Mr. Scrooge,” spat Bill, crossing his arms. “Any other enlightening insights you’d like to add to this meeting?”

“Look, keep my money if you reckon it will help, but don’t expect me to be in on this plan. I for one don’t want to see Ginny any more disappointed than she needs to be.”

“Reckon you can find the door on your own, Perce?” said Charlie rather icily.

“Yes, I believe I can, Charlie,” returned Percy.

Bill watched his younger brother leave the room, head held high and not looking at either one of them, then turned back to Charlie. “We have five days until Christmas Eve. Here’s what I was thinking…”

*****

From his hiding place in the top of the linen closet, Fred watched Charlie round up Percy and duck into Bill and his room, closing the door tightly behind them. A few minutes later they came back out, rummaged around for a bit and then returned, again sealing the door tightly behind them. 

Fred’s inner sleuth alarms started ringing big time and he slipped from his hiding place. He wandered into the loo and opened the clothes-hamper.

“Hey! What are you doing? You’ll blow my cover!” cried George, staring up at him in outrage.

“Shut it,” Fred told him unconcerned. “Something’s going on, more important than listening to try and find where Mum and Dad hid the presents this year. Bill just had Charlie and Percy come in for one of those ‘meetings’ again.”

“Oh,” said George, immediately jumping out of the hamper and following his twin down the hall. Silently, they both stretched out on the floor facing each other and put an ear to the crack at the bottom of the door. They listened without speaking to the conversation happening inside the room, only glancing up now and then to make eye-contact.

They had only been there for a few minutes when the sound of footsteps marching toward the door sent the two of them scampering out of the way. Percy pulled the door open, looked at them lying there in extremely incriminating positions, and simply shook his head. He stepped over them, pulled the door shut again, and hurried off down the hall without a backward glance.

 _Strange_ , thought Fred. Usually he at least lectured for a minute or two. Then he pushed the thought from his mind as George was gesturing wildly, letting him know he was missing good stuff. He quickly resumed his position on the floor.

Five minutes later, Fred sat up and pushed away from his oldest brothers’ room, the gleam of secrets and ideas in his eyes. “George, I do believe we have some planning to do.”

“And merchandise to liquidate,” agreed George, a matching glint in his own eyes.

“What are you two doing?” asked a voice from behind them. They both whirled to find Ron standing there, suspicion written across his freckled face.

“Just a little Christmas business is all,” replied George quickly.

“And we need your help,” said Fred, inspiration striking. “Look, Ronnie, go gather any junk you can find in your room that you don’t want anymore and meet us in the sitting room in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Why?” asked Ron. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Why would you think we were going to do something to you?”

“Because you always do.”

“Well, not this time, little bro,” said George swiftly. “Promise, on my honor as a twin.”

Ron eyed them skeptically for a moment more, then shrugged and headed for his room.

“All right, now we just need a little outside help,” said George as they hurried to their own room.

“Are you thinking who I’m thinking?” asked Fred with a wink.

“Uncle Bilius!” they both cried together.

*****

“Hurry up!” hissed Ron, standing in the doorway of the sitting room and glancing back over his shoulder to where Fred and George were kneeling in front of the fireplace.

“Shut it!” hissed Fred back. “You’re supposed to be our lookout, not the one who actually gets us caught with your yammering!”

“I don’t think you even know what you’re doing,” replied Ron after sticking his tongue out at Fred. “You’re not twelve yet; you shouldn’t be using that and you know it!”

“Shut up!” growled Fred again. 

George suddenly pulled his head back out of the flames and glared at both of them. “Uncle Bilius said it sounds fun. He’ll be here tomorrow morning to tell Mum he wants us to visit for a day or two. No thanks to you two, I might add! I could hardly hear him over all your racket!”

“Well, it worked though, didn’t it?” said Fred with a shrug. “Now we just need part two of the plan.” Both twins looked right at Ron, who suddenly felt his insides freeze.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

“We need to get all our loot smuggled outside and into the broom shed without Mum noticing…” started Fred.

“Which means we’re going to need a distraction…” added George.

“No way!” said Ron at once. Being a distraction for one of the twins’ projects was usually tantamount to accepting a suicide mission.

“Come on, Ron. It’s for a good cause this time!” pleaded Fred.

“Yeah, remember, we’re being Santa’s Elves…” threw in George. 

Ron wasn’t sure exactly where he stood on the whole Santa issue anymore, but he supposed he could help out a bit more, for Ginny at least.

“Fine, what do I have to do?” he grumbled.

“Just go in the kitchen and keep Mum busy,” said Fred, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Ask her anything,” added George.

“Why is the sky blue?”

“What she puts in the Christmas pudding?”

“Where babies come from?”

“Anything, just keep her out of this room and away from the stairs. George and I will get all our stuff out to the broom shed through the front door. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Ron muttered gloomily. Why did he always get stuck with the hard jobs? With a sigh, he headed to the kitchen.

*****

“That has to be the easiest smuggling mission we have ever pulled off,” said George to his twin roughly an hour later as they traipsed up the stairs to their room.

“I know! I don’t reckon Mum left the kitchen the entire time! Ron might actually have some potential. We’ll have to use him more often,” added Fred. He pushed the door to their room open and then stopped short.

Ron was sitting on one of the beds, looking rather green.

“What?” they cried together, alarmed.

“If you ever ask me to do anything like that again, I’ll…I’ll…hex you!”

“Why?” asked George.

“What happened?”

“I asked her, just like you said to!”

“Asked her what?” questioned Fred.

“Where babies come from!”

“And she _told_ you?” squeaked George.

“Where do you think I’ve been for the last hour?”

“Aw, Ronnie,” said Fred, sitting down on the bed and putting an arm around his younger brother. “It’s a hard day when you learn the real facts of life.”

“I reckon I’m gonna be sick.”

“I still can’t believe she told you,” muttered George, sitting on the opposite bed. “Dad just told us this summer. We had to figure everything out on our own before that.”

Ron shuddered. “That is the last time I ever let you use me for a distraction. Ever.”

*****

Bill and Charlie left the house bright and early the next day, telling their mum they had plans and not to expect them back until dinner. Their strategy was simple – it was four days before Christmas Eve; there had to be some people around who could use some help with the odd task here and there and would be willing to pay them for it. It didn’t matter if they were magical or Muggle; Bill was of age now so he could take whatever they earned down to Gringotts and exchange it without needing a parent there with him. 

“So, where do you reckon we should start first?” asked Charlie, hunching his shoulders deeper into his coat against the bitter cold.

“Let’s try the Lovegoods. Mr. Lovegood used to pay me a few Knuts to run errands for him when I was a kid. Maybe he’ll have some jobs we could do.”

Charlie nodded and the two of them set off through the snow.

*****

“Uncle Bilius, are you quite sure you’re up for this? These three can be a handful!” Molly protested, still not completely over the shock of her uncle showing up at her doorstep and offering to take her three youngest sons for an overnight stay. “And you aren’t as young as you used to be.”

“Molly, love, I may not be a spring chicken anymore, but I’ve got a few good years left in me yet.”

“But all three? At the same time?”

“We promise we’ll be good, Mum,” said Fred, clasping his hands and batting his eyes.

“Perfect angels,” agreed George, crossing his heart.

Ron didn’t say anything. He’d been avoiding his mother since their little chat the day before.

“Oh, I guess, but you Floo them right back here if they give you a moment’s trouble.”

“Thanks, Mum!” cried the twins, jumping up and down excitedly. Molly smiled. It was good to see them so happy, and heaven knew they weren’t going to get much else for Christmas this year. If a trip to pad around after her bachelor uncle made them this excited who was she to stop them?

“Just make sure you don’t let them stay up _all_ night, Uncle Bilius. And absolutely no sampling Firewhisky!”

“Now, Molly, what sort of an uncle do you take me for?”

“The sort that took Gideon and Fabian to see the Whirlygig Witches when they were twelve…”

“What are the Whirlygig Witches, Uncle Bilius?” asked Fred.

“Yeah, we wanna see them!” added George.

“Over my dead body,” replied Molly, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at her uncle.

“I promise, Molly, I will be the epitome of good judgment.”

“And you boys will behave?”

“Like we said, Mum…”

“Perfect angels.”

“All right, go then. And have fun.”

She watched them leave the kitchen and then went back to the Christmas breads she was baking with a small shake of her head, never even noticing the detour the group took to the broom shed before Portkeying away.

*****

“So, where do you boys want to set up shop, then?” Uncle Bilius asked the twins who were surveying Diagon Alley with a shrewdness that belied their ten years. 

“I reckon we ought to set up over there, by Gringotts,” said Fred, pointing to a place just beyond the stone steps. “It’s close enough to the bank people will most likely have just come from it and have money to spend…”

“But far enough away from the other shops we won’t be competing with them,” finished George.

“Bright boys,” said their uncle with a smile. He walked over to the place they had indicated and waved his wand a few times. A small stall appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t the most beautiful thing ever produced, but it didn’t need to be and he’d never been very good at aesthetics.

“Thanks, Uncle Bilius!” cried the twins together.

Their uncle nodded, using his wand to draw up a chair behind the stall and conjure a blazing fire. “You’re on your own now,” he said, tipping the chair back and crossing his arms, eyes already closed.

“Brilliant,” said Fred, taking charge at once. He clapped his gloved hands together and tossed his brightly colored scarf over his shoulder. “Let’s set the potions and perfume on this end of the stall, the junk we’re trying to sell in the middle and the hot chocolate on the other. Ron, you can have charge of the hot chocolate.”

Ron eyed his older brothers skeptically. “Love potions?” he scoffed, picking one of the small bottles up that George was unloading from boxes onto the table and reading the label. “What’s in these potions anyway?” he asked.

“That one? I think we put honey and some cinnamon in that,” said George, his words coming out in small puffs from the cold.

“And rum extract,” added Fred.

“And the perfume?” asked Ron, picking up another bottle of homemade concoctions.

“Rose petals, water, and some of Percy’s shampoo.”

Ron shook his head. “This stuff isn’t real! It’s all just rubbish!”

“Of course it’s not real!” said George.

“We’re going for pure cuteness factor here, not authenticity,” said Fred, as though Ron were missing the completely obvious. “It’s all a matter of how you market it. Do it right and you can sell anything.”

“Whatever,” said Ron, turning to help place the junk they had managed to collect between the three of them on the table, seriously wondering why anyone in their right mind would want to buy any of it.

“Just watch and you’ll see,” Fred assured him.

*****

Bill trudged wearily up the stairs toward his room, his feet dragging from a hard day’s work around the village.

“Bill?”

Bill turned to see Percy standing on the landing that led to the attic bedroom he shared with Ron, looking rather hesitant.

“What?” he said testily. He was still peeved that his younger brother had bailed on their plan.

“I was wondering if I could borrow Jack. I need to send something off and Errol is already out.”

Bill narrowed his eyes and very nearly spat something nasty at his brother, but he caught himself just in time. He was the eldest; he was supposed to set the example and it _was_ Christmas after all.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed.

“Thank you,” said Percy curtly, turning quickly and taking the stairs back to him room.

Bill shook his head, wondering what that was all about, then continued on to his own room. He intended to collapse on his bed and take a nice, long nap, provided Charlie hadn’t already beaten him to the punch and started up with his bloody snoring.

*****

Molly woke in the wee hours of the morning to the distinct feeling that something was missing. She reached for her wand on the nightstand and flicked the lamp on, then rolled over.

Arthur’s side of the bed was empty.

She sighed and quietly rolled out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown over her nightdress and sliding on her slippers. He hadn’t slept as well since the accident and he had probably left the room so as not to keep her up.

Not wanting to wake the children, she crept silently through the house, only using her wand for illumination.

He wasn’t in the sitting room, the bathroom, or the kitchen. He wasn’t in the tiny closet off the sitting room he had crammed a desk into and used as an office. She was starting to worry a little until she glanced out the kitchen window and saw light coming from his shed.

She shook her head slightly as she grabbed a cloak off the hook by the door and stuffed her feet into Bill’s boots that were standing there.

The December air that met her when she opened the door was frigid and she hurried down the path to the little shed that had become Arthur’s sanctuary. Peering in the only window she could see her husband sitting on a bench, lit by a single lamp. His shoulders were hunched and he appeared the very picture of misery.

Her heart broke. “Arthur,” she said softly as she pushed open the door.

He looked up, wiping hastily at his cheeks. 

“Arthur, love, what is it?” she asked, sitting down on the bench beside him. She entwined her fingers through his and laid her head on his shoulder.

He gestured with his free hand to a damaged sled that leaned against the wall in front of him.

“I picked it up on the way home from work yesterday. Some Muggle had left it out with the rubbish. I thought…” His voice cracked slightly. “I thought I could fix it up for the twins and Ron. A few binding spells, a new coat of paint… But it’s not working.”

Molly looked at the toy; it was very damaged. She sighed, loving this wizard beside her even more because he had tried.

“It’s okay, Arthur.”

“No, it’s not okay, Molly!” he cried, looking away from her. “I should be able to provide for my family! I shouldn’t have to go digging through rubbish bins just to give them Christmas! I feel like I haven’t given them anything!”

Molly felt her temper flare slightly. “Arthur Weasley, you stop that right now,” she ordered, turning him back to face her. “You have given them _everything_! They have clothes to wear, and good food to eat, and a warm home to live in. You are sending them to the best Wizarding school in the world. But more than that, they have you! A father who is kind, and loving, and would give up the world for any of them and they know it! There are things so much more important than money, Arthur.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But, it’s Christmas, Molly! I want to see looks of glee and excitement on my childrens’ faces when they wake up Christmas morning, not stoic smiles to try and protect us. Besides, weren’t you the one crying in the loo just the other day when Ginny came in with that catalog?”

Molly closed her eyes. “She just caught me off guard and it got me. I wish we had wonderful, nice things to give them, too, Arthur. And I wish Ginny wasn’t going to get up Christmas morning and have her dreams crushed. But they’re good, strong kids, Arthur, and they’ll be okay. Besides, they’ll have presents. We’re not destitute. There are the jumpers and gloves I’ve made them, and the books from Muriel, and you know we’ve made something special for each of them. Not to mention I’ve been cooking enough sweets and biscuits and puddings to feed a small army.”

Arthur finally smiled though his eyes remained slightly watery. “We _have_ a small army, Molly.”

“And you wouldn’t trade a single one of them for all the gold in Gringotts.”

“Of course not.”

“Well, they wouldn’t trade you for all the Christmas presents in the world, either, so why don’t you come to bed, dear, and stop brooding out here in the cold. Tomorrow I’ll help you with the sled. Maybe between the two of us we can put it right.”

Her let her pull him to his feet, but then he stopped her, pulling her back to plant a kiss on her lips. “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

“After giving birth to that small army you mentioned?”

“Yes. And I love you more every single day.” He kissed her again firmly.

“Well, my handsome prince,” she said, batting her eyes at him flirtatiously as she pulled him forward by his hand. “Why don’t we go back upstairs and I’ll give you your Christmas present a little early this year.”

“Beautiful and brilliant,” he said, finally smiling as he followed her.

Bill and Charlie cooked breakfast the next morning. For some reason their parents seemed to need a bit of a lie-in.

*****

Two days before Christmas Diagon Alley was alive with last minute shoppers out looking for that perfect gift. Fred and George had chosen a good spot for their little impromptu shop, and with Uncle Bilius dozing in the background by his fire, the two of them and Ron had done a respectable business. 

The twins were natural born salesmen and so after a while Ron had pretty much left them to it, content to man the hot chocolate section and read his pile of _Martin Miggs_ comics he’d thankfully thought to bring along.

They’d sold out of hot chocolate the first day, using up all of their mum’s supply the twins had pilfered from the kitchen when she wasn’t looking. Fred had used a few Sickles to buy some more, convinced the turnaround would exceed the cost, and the way things were going he was probably right. George had managed to peddle most of their used goods, though not for as much as he would have liked. Fred had even charmed several middle-aged witches out on a holiday shopping spree into buying most of the “love potions” and “perfume.” He’d batted his eyes at them and flashed his most innocent grin, making them laugh with something witty he’d said. They’d called him cute and sweet, kissed and pinched his cheeks, ruffled his hair, and then opened their purses. After they’d walked away, Ron had dissolved into giggles as he watched Fred practically gag and scrub at his cheeks with his coat sleeve.

“You know, making money’s great,” muttered Fred, still looking slightly ill, “but I think I’m gonna have to start drawing the line at some things…”

Ron laughed again, feeling it was justly deserved for that stunt they’d suckered him into the other day. He still wasn’t sure he could look his parents in the eyes after that little chat.

“Hey there, son.”

Ron glanced up at the voice to see an older wizard standing in front of his side of the stand.

“Want some hot chocolate, sir?” he asked, just as George had told him he had to.

“Well, no. Actually, I was wondering if those were for sale.” He gestured to the pile of comics at Ron’s feet.

“Erm, no, sorry,” said Ron, stepping protectively in front of his stash of beloved comics.

“Are you sure? My grandson loves those, and I’ve been hunting everywhere for them but I can’t seem to find them in any of the stores.”

Ron hesitated. He loved his comics. They were one of the few things he had that were his, only his. He didn’t have to share them with any older brothers. But he did really want to help Ginny out as well. She was his only sister, after all, and he was supposed to help take care of her. She was the only one in the family he actually got to be a big brother to. Everyone else treated him like an annoying pest half of the time, but Ginny looked up to him. 

“I’ll give you six Galleons for the lot of them,” the wizard offered. 

Ron felt his eyes bug out. SIX GALLEONS! That was more than they had made in the whole two days they’d been out there! He glanced back to find Fred and George staring at them, mouths hanging open in profound astonishment. A happy thought filled Ron suddenly. If he did this, sold his comics to this man, he would have successfully out-sold the twins at their own game, and in only one transaction.

“Deal,” he told the man with a grin. Some things were just worth it.

*****

“All right, let’s see what we’ve got,” said Bill, dumping the money he’d just changed at Gringotts onto his bed. Charlie sat on the other end, eagerly leaning forward.

It was Christmas Eve and the two of them were exhausted, more exhausted than they’d been _before_ the break for the holidays. In the last four days they had worked like house-elves. Crazy Mr. Lovegood had paid them to scour all his cauldrons. Some little widow lady in the village had given them some of that funny paper money Muggles used for washing her windows, all fifty seven of them. They’d mucked out some farmer’s barn, hung Christmas decorations for the local parson, and run errands for the butcher. Charlie had even agreed, much to his chagrin, to play dress-form for one of the village wives who said he was the exact build of her husband and she just couldn’t finish the shirt she was making without him.

“So, how much do we have?” asked Charlie impatiently. 

“Eight Galleons and some change,” Bill replied, crestfallen. They’d worked so hard! He’d thought they’d have plenty, but not knowing the exact exchange rate of Muggle to wizard money he’d miscalculated.

“That’s it?” cried Charlie. He pushed Bill’s hands out of the way and started counting again for himself. He looked up after a moment with pure disappointment written on his freckled face, having arrived at the same total as his brother. “Now what do we do?” he asked glumly.

“Tell Ginny the truth, I reckon. I suppose Percy was right.”

“Not so fast, dearest elder brothers,” called a voice from the doorway. The two boys looked up to see their ten-year-old twin brothers walking in, trailed by Ron.

“Do the words ‘private meeting, stay out’ mean anything to you three?” Bill snapped.

“Nope,” said Fred casually.

“Besides, you’re gonna want us here…” said George.

“As we have come…”

“To save the day.”

Bill shook his head and crossed his arms, glaring at them. It gave him a headache when they started doing that, finishing each other’s sentences. It wasn’t natural.

“Oh, really. And how’s that?”

Fred pulled a bag from his jumper and turned it up over the bed. A stream of gleaming coins poured out and into their small pile. Bill’s jaw dropped. Charlie’s eyes popped.

The twins grinned. 

“You know that we know everything that goes on in this house, right?” said George cockily.

“And after hearing of poor Ginny’s plight we decided she’d need more help than you two gits could give her,” added Fred.

“So, we made some plans of our own.”

Bill forcefully closed his mouth. “All right, you two, what did you do and how much trouble are you gonna be in when it gets out?” They might only be ten years old but they were already well on their way to becoming criminal masterminds…

“Yeah,” added Charlie, fingering the gold suspiciously. “Which bank did you rob?”

“How could you say such things, dear older brothers!” cried Fred. 

“You wound us!” added George theatrically. 

“And I’m taking the dictionary away from you two,” said Bill. “You sound ridiculous, talking like that. Now, seriously, where did you get the gold?”

“We earned it. Just like you.”

“It was all perfectly legal, just so you know. In fact, Ron here,” said George, pulling Ron, who had until then been content just to listen, forward, “actually made most of it.”

“What did you do, Ron,” asked Charlie.

“Sold my comics,” the youngest boy muttered, not used to being the center of his brothers’ attention.

“Your _Martin Miggs_ comics?” gasped Bill. “But you love those!”

Ron shrugged, blushing slightly.

“Got six Galleons for them, too,” added Fred proudly. 

“SIX GALLEONS,” cried Charlie. He suddenly turned back to the pile of coins on the bed and started counting again. “Bill!” he said excitedly a minute later, “we’re only one Galleon, five Sickles and two Knuts short now!”

“No, you’re not,” said another voice from the doorway. All five redheads turned to see Percy standing there, pushing the door closed behind him. He looked at them all for a moment, then walked over and dumped two Galleons into the pile on the bed.

“Perce?” asked Bill, eyebrows raised.

“I…I…” Percy stammered. “I made a trade. I did all of Walter Barfaus’ holiday essays, and he sent me those,” he said, looking at his feet.

“You did someone else’s homework?” squeaked Charlie.

“For money?” added Bill. “So that’s why you’ve been shut up in your room and borrowing my owl.” He shook his head, smiling. “Merlin’s pants, Perce, there may be hope for you yet!” He stood and wrapped his younger brother in a huge hug, which everyone impulsively joined in leaving Percy surrounded by his brothers and blushing to the roots of his hair.

*****

The clock at the back of the store chimed four in the afternoon and Mrs. Tabitha Merriweather smiled with relief. She loved her store, selling wonderful toys and games to children and watching the smiles appear on their faces, but even she was glad to close early on this Christmas Eve. She bustled about, sweeping up the shop and restacking one of the shelves. She was just reaching to flip the sign from open to closed and lock the door when it was pushed open by two very breathless teenage boys. 

“Please don’t close yet!” the taller one huffed, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, we need to buy something,” added the other who was most certainly his brother.

Tabitha stopped, intrigued. These two were obviously not in the habit of frequenting toyshops. By the looks of them they were in their late teens, the oldest one might even be of age. She had to admit she was curious what would bring two such boys to her shop at closing time on Christmas Eve.

“And what sort of toy could be of interest to two such strapping lads as yourselves?” she asked them, leaning on the broom.

“This,” the older one said, holding up a folded piece of parchment. “We need to buy this.” 

She took it from him, glancing at the request written in red crayon by a childish hand and realized there was a cutout picture from one of her own catalogs taped to the bottom. It was a picture of her newest line of dollhouse.

“Seem a little old to be playing with dolls, lads,” she said with a merry laugh.

“It’s not for us!” the younger one cried, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Yeah, it’s for our little sister.”

“Neither one of you bares much resemblance to Santa…”

“Well, we’re helping him this year,” muttered the younger lad.

Tabitha smiled again. “Very well, since it’s Christmas,” she said, rather taken with these two redheaded boys who had raced across the Alley to get a dollhouse for their sister before closing time. “I think I have a few still left in the back. If you’ll just excuse me for a moment…”

“Well, actually,” the older boy broke in, looking rather embarrassed. “We were wondering if we could buy that one?” He pointed to the one in the window that was already assembled. 

She smiled knowingly. “Let me guess, it’s a surprise?”

They nodded.

“And you don’t know how to put it all together properly?”

Again, they nodded sheepishly. Tabitha laughed. “I don’t usually sell the merchandise in the window until I’m out of stock in the back, but,” she added quickly, seeing them share a worried glance, “no worries, boys. I suppose I can make an exception, just this once, since you asked so nicely. If you’ll just step up to the counter and wait I’ll collect it and be right with you.”

She pulled a key from her apron pocket and opened the small grate that separated the window from the rest of the shop, listening to the soft noises and whispered conversation coming from behind her as she did. The unmistakable sound of a money purse being turned upside down on the counter met her ears and she smiled as she heard them carefully counting each Knut. The boys’ rather well-worn clothes and homemade hats and scarves hadn’t escaped her notice either. It was obvious these boys had scraped together every last Knut they had to buy their little sister her dream gift. 

“Here you go, lads,” she said with a kind smile, bringing the large dollhouse over and setting it on the counter. “That’ll be fifteen Galleons, five Sickles and three Knuts exactly.”

The oldest counted the coins again, most of it in Knuts, and pushed them toward her, leaving only a few behind. He grinned broadly and turned the dollhouse around to get a good hold on it, but then his grin faltered when noticed the inside.

“Ma’am,” he said quickly, “there’s furniture and two dolls in here. Those cost extra and we don’t have enough to pay for them. I reckon you forgot to take them out.”

“No, lad,” Tabitha assured him with a merry laugh. “Didn’t you know about our one day sale? Buy one of our dollhouses today and the dolls and furniture are included at no extra cost.”

“Brilliant!” the younger boy exclaimed. “Ginny’s gonna go through the roof!”

“Wow, thanks!” the older said, his grin returning.

“My pleasure,” replied Tabitha. She stood there smiling as she watched them gather up their treasure and exit the shop at the same breathless speed they had entered. Laughing, she shook her head and then turned the sign and finished closing the shop.

“One day sale, eh?” said a voice from behind her. She turned to find her husband leaning in the doorway to the back room, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face. 

“What?” she asked innocently, “I’ve always been a sucker for redheads. And you would have done the same thing.”

*****

“Did you get it?” four voices cried in excited whispers when Bill and Charlie entered the twins’ room.

“Sh!” Charlie hissed, glaring at them. “Ginny’s room is right down the hall and she’ll hear you!”

“Well, did you, though?” Percy asked again.

“Yeah, we got it,” said Bill, grinning. 

“Where is it?” asked Ron.

“In the broom shed. We couldn’t risk bringing it inside and having Mum or Dad see it.”

“How are you going to get it inside tonight?” asked Percy.

Bill paused. He hadn’t actually thought of that. He’d been so caught up in just trying to buy the thing he’d never given thought to how to smuggle it into the house.

“Bill, brother dearest,” said Fred, suddenly at his side.

“Have you learned nothing?” added George, appearing on his other side.

“We may be young…”

“And small…”

“And innocent looking…”

Charlie snorted. “You two were born looking guilty and you know it.”

They grinned, taking it as a compliment. “Anyway, our point is,” said Fred, getting down to business, “that we have wandered this house at night for years and never once been caught.”

“You wander the house?” asked Bill, rather alarmed.

“See, our point exactly,” said George triumphantly. 

“If you’re willing to trust us, we can promise you to get the dollhouse right were it needs to be for Ginny to find in morning.”

“And no one will hear a thing.”

Bill didn’t answer right at first. Fred and George might talk like they had swallowed _Flattery for Dummies_ backwards but they were still only ten, and there was a lot riding on this night.

“Aw, let them do it, Bill,” Charlie suddenly spoke up. “Never would have got this far without them anyway.”

“All right,” said Bill with a shrug. The twins gave each other a high five. “But, just so you know, Charlie and I are locking our door at night from now on. You two are scary.”

“Are we done now?” asked Ron, suddenly. “I’m hungry.”

Everyone laughed. “Yeah, I think so,” said Bill. “Come on, Ronnie. Let’s go see what Mum made for dinner.”

*****

Bill didn’t think he’d sleep that night, despite knowing that the spell his parents had placed on the presents wouldn’t activate and bring them to the foot of his bed until it sensed he was out cold. He lay awake for a long time listening for the creak of the stairs, the swish of a door, anything to tell him that the twins had been successful. He didn’t hear anything, though, and gradually his eyes closed until the next thing he knew Charlie was ripping the covers off him and telling him to get his lazy bum out of bed, it was Christmas!

“Did they do it?” he cried, swinging his legs out of the bed.

“No idea, but we’re not gonna find out sitting here!”

Bill gave a glace to the foot of his bed. There was a small pile of packages there. Jumper from Mum, homemade wallet from Dad, book from Auntie Muriel. There was a suspiciously moist package from the twins that he thought might be safer to avoid, a drawing from Ginny, a crumpled looking brown sack from Ron… Apparently, everyone had been busy trying to make Christmas a little better this year. 

He and Charlie pulled their Christmas jumpers on over their pajamas and then rushed into the hallway, leaving the rest of the presents for later. 

Percy and Ron were already coming down the stairs from their attic bedroom, both wearing their own jumpers. Two more flights down and the twins had joined them. 

“Did you – ?”

George stomped on Charlie’s foot swiftly, giving him a glare as the door to Ginny’s room opened and their little sister emerged. She was wearing her jumper over her nightdress and clutching a rag doll in her arms that Bill had a sneaky suspicion used to be his old teddy bear until a few days ago. It was rather worn and frayed at the edges despite his mother’s best efforts to hide it.

“He didn’t bring it,” she said softly, looking up at Bill with eyes full of tears she was trying valiantly to hold back. 

Bill’s heart dropped, and he whipped around to glare at the twins but was stopped by his parents coming down the stairs from their room on the third floor.

“Ginny, love, what’s wrong?” his mother asked, looking just as crestfallen as her daughter.

“Santa didn’t bring it. I was so good this year, and it was the only thing I asked for, and he still didn’t bring it!” Her voice caught and she lost the battle to hold in her tears. With a cry, she flung herself into her mother’s arms while their dad looked helplessly on. As one, all four of their brothers turned to glare daggers at the twins.

“Ginny, sweetheart,” said their dad, pulling the little girl from her mother’s arms. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and have our Christmas breakfast and then…then Daddy needs to talk to you for a bit, okay?”

His sister sniffed loudly, clutching the doll tighter, but nodded.

“Yes, breakfast would be good, for all of us,” his mum agreed, wiping at her own eyes.

Still in pajamas, nightgowns, and Weasley jumpers, the family traipsed down the stairs, Bill vowing to pound his twin brothers into the ground the instant he got them away from his mother’s eyes.

“Oh, sweet Merlin!” 

He glanced up from his thoughts at his mother’s cry, noticing she had stopped on the last landing and was staring into the kitchen below. Suddenly, an excited squeal of pure delight ripped through the morning, coming from his little sister.

“He brought it, he brought it!” she screamed, ducking through her parents and racing down the stairs. Bill pushed forward with the rest of his brothers to see what was happening.

There, resting in the middle of the kitchen table, was the dollhouse. The twins had arranged the dolls inside so they were sitting to a handsome breakfast and tied a big red bow on the top with a note that read _To Ginevra, with love, Santa._

“Look, oh look!” Ginny was crying, practically dancing with delight. “There’s the Floo, and the front door opens, and…”

“Arthur, did you – ?” his mum asked, still clutching her heart with one hand and the banister with the other.

“I had nothing to do with it,” his dad assured her, stunned.

“But, how…” stuttered his mum.

Bill turned to the twins, who were grinning as they sat on the steps behind him, and bowed just a little. They gave him identical thumbs up in response. Then he looked at the rest of his brothers. Charlie was watching Ginny with a huge grin plastered across his own face. Percy leaned against the banister, wearing a content and happy smile, and little Ronnie sat next to the twins, staring at his sister. After a minute, he stood up and went down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Gin, I got a toy Auror from Santa and I reckon he might be just the right size. You want him to come visit your new dollhouse people later?”

“Oh, would he stay to tea?” Ginny cried happily.

“Erm, yeah, sure, I guess.”

Bill suddenly became aware of being stared at and he looked back from the kitchen to find both of his parents watching him.

“Did you do this?” his dad asked, eyes rather moist.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, moving between them and heading for the kitchen.

“Yeah, Dad,” he heard one of the twins say.

“Don’t you believe in magic?” the other finished, both coming behind him.

“And Santa Claus?” Charlie added, following the others.

“It is the only logical answer, you know,” Percy finished, the last to pass their parents. “Now, Mum, what was that about breakfast?”


End file.
